


Just Ask

by Demytasse



Series: Punch-Drunk in Love [4]
Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Banter, Bickering, Carrying, Casual Sex, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Enemies With Benefits, Enemies to Lovers, Fighting, Friends With Benefits, High School, Horny Teenagers, Humor, Implied Fight, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, One Shot, Piggyback Ride, Raijin Days, Sexual Humor, Sexual Teasing, Sexual Tension, Teasing, Teenagers, faked injury, izaya and shizuo are both around 17/18, mentions of Shinra, stubborn dumbasses, these boys are stubborn af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-04-24 14:59:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19175692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demytasse/pseuds/Demytasse
Summary: Shizuo agrees to carry Izaya back to his place after school after he causes him a minor injury.—Shizuo had unbelievable guilt for his wild punch that staggered his opponent backward, tripped him awkwardly over the seat of an askew chair — his swing and a miss that caused Izaya to grab his ankle and bite back agony, dramatically writhe in spite of himself. It was much to Shizuo’s shock that the pest threw away that pride of his to express pain so openly. Peculiar, out of character, so heavily a cringe to witness that he acted kindly and sympathetic to stop it.





	Just Ask

     The famous set of misclassified enemies —Izaya and Shizuo— were dubious adolescent lovers.

They were far too honest of what they loathed; reluctant to walk on the same route to class, yet did side by side with compressed tension between them. Never much to share, just hot air and petulant gestures, crossed arms and hands in pockets, and slammed steps across the glossed wood corridors. On their better days they forgot to wear scowls, their best they would smirk in the other’s general direction; under the bluest of moons they would feed rumours with soulmate grade closeness, rather, _day-after_ zest, which struck plenty a Raijin student with envy. As it was, they did have some form of intimacy, if only for blink, and perhaps it was more than just a handshake that sealed the rivals in an occasional truce.

However this day was its own special thing in and of itself. Today they walked a single gait; Shizuo in weave of people and avoidance of floor lines, kept away bad luck and a certain burden for his mother’s back, all the while a human burden was draped on his.

    “You’re heavy.”

    “That’s a lie.” Izaya knocked his head against his transporter’s.

    “If I weren’t _me_ , you’d be heavy,” he corrected with a frown.

    “I’m not heavy, even for fools that _aren’t_ beastly strong.”

    “Hmph.“

Shizuo was unsure, he hadn’t the comparison to confirm or deny. Still, Izaya was the weight of a feather to him — _it was his damn ego that weighed a ton_.

    “For instance Shinra can carry me.”

    "What?”

    “Mmhmm, easily proved his husband potential, bridal style and all.”

    “Tch.” His fingers clenched Izaya’s thighs.

    “He did it for someone else’s benefit, Shizu-chan. Take it back down from sixty.”

    Intentionally, Shizuo slackened his hold, though Izaya leeched on. “So why don’t you call him to take you home?“

    "I can’t.”

    “Why the hell not, Izaya?”

    “My hands are too busy making sure I’m not tossed off your back. You see, I can’t seem to fully trust my…” he trailed off, struggled to pick a descriptor from a list where each one soured his taste buds just the same as the last.

    “…”

    “Correction: I _absolutely_ can’t trust you, my _detestable rival_.”

    “Same, to be honest.”

Izaya snorted.

    “What now?”

    “I believe you, honestly, but you sound so awkward using that phrasing,” he gripped tighter with a loveless hug, prepared to actually be dropped.

    “There’s nothin’ wrong with it.”

    “Sure there isn’t, I just wouldn’t expect you to pick up on _cool kid_ lingo and actually use it.”

    “Whatever.”

    "Sounds like you’re bothered, though.” Izaya jubilantly kicked his legs out with a pattern of swishes.

    “ _Whatever_ means I wasn’t.”

    “It means you’re dismissive and perhaps hiding something.”

    “You’re annoying.”

    “That’s a lie.”

    “It’s really not.”

    “Then why are you still carrying me?”

    “ _What. Ever._ ” Shizuo stressed.

    “Glad you’re dismissive of _that_ , at least. I still need my un-noble steed.”

Shizuo grumbled, but kept on target.

    As they proceeded through the halls they remained unaware of the eyes upon them, Shizuo more focused on a continued scissor kick. Izaya appeared tickled by how quick he was swept into a makeshift saddle after his ankle twisted. Shizuo, however, was not so much.

 _“How fair is it for a beast to use chairs in close quarters when he already had an unfair advantage?”_  
  
          “No…I…you set me up to trip you, asshole!”

_“Now, why would I sacrifice my dignity to cause myself pain?”_

    Shizuo had unbelievable guilt for his wild punch that staggered his opponent backward, tripped him awkwardly over the seat of an askew chair — his swing and a miss that caused Izaya to grab his ankle and bite back agony, dramatically writhe in spite of himself. It was much to Shizuo’s shock that the pest threw away that pride of his to express pain so openly. Peculiar, out of character, so heavily a cringe to witness that he acted kindly and sympathetic to stop it.

Now, however, he was certain — the flea hardly deserved more than scrutiny over which ankle he easily flexed and which remained limp.

    “Ay princess,” he took a pothole on purpose, “aren’t you gettin’ your injured foot mixed up?”

    Izaya paused. “Oh, right, it was my left wasn’t it?“ he switched his gimp foot.

    Shizuo forgot to be annoyed and simply sighed, “there you go.” He smirked in vain.  
  
    “Yes, yes, very observant of you.”

The sarcastic praise was acknowledged with a hike of Izaya up his back; in return a chin nestled in his hair. Their banter softened from animosity, in fact, their spat dialogue ceased all together and the rare silence turned their afternoon lazy.

 

    With a step into the open courtyard their hush seemed considerate of the trees that whispered in the Spring and appreciative of the warmth that the sun provided. Surely they only acted a fluke of their normal dynamic because of circumstance, but they eagerly let it happen without considering it an oddity. They let it linger, the effect of their mistake, until their indolent pace halted at the school gates to address uncertainty that’d been on Shizuo’s mind since the first-floor stairwell.  
  
    “Well?” His toe tapped after a moment of silence.

The path presented options of East or West; would they take one together, or would he force Izaya to fuck off in the opposite direction of himself?

Izaya remained mute. His eyes rested, a whistle played in his head instead of upon his lips, while he feigned slumber.  
  
    “Louse…”

    “Hmm~?” He hummed dreamily.

    “Whose place?”

It was the right response, Shizuo gathered, as Izaya turned attentive. He now hovered parallel to Shizuo’s viewpoint, palpable satisfaction upon his features and hands pressed into a stationary shoulder massage. With his left foot he pointed down the Eastern path.

    “You’re looking to get your ankle checked?” Shizuo forgot the lie.

    “Hm?” he paused in confusion. “Oh no, I’m pretty sure I can handle wrapping an ankle without that glasses-freak.”  
  
    “So…" he shuffled Izaya’s weight, “we’re going to your place.”

    “That _is_ the direction to my place, yes.”

A solo nod and Shizuo picked his pace back up from where he stopped, deliberated what he was going to say — if he was going to say it.

    “Your sisters gone today then?”

    “Forward, are we?”

    “Just answer the goddamn question.”

    “Does it matter if they are? They’re not _too_ annoying. Kind of.”

    “Ugh, that’s not why I care.”

    “I know.” Izaya chuckled. “Honestly, I just find my bed to be far more comfortable than your old sack.”

    "Haha, you mean you _don’t_ want a back injury to match your fake injury?”

    “Are you accusing me of lying just so I could get you to carry me?”

    “Why shouldn’t I?”

    “Because I’m not some coward, Shizu-chan. You should know this by now, considering our brawls.”

    “Coulda fooled me.”  
  
    “I often do.”

Shizuo shook the pest from his hair.

 

    Suddenly Izaya’s house seemed too far off and a bit too close; their regular trips never felt so conflicted before, at least not in this regard. It stole their attention to question why it was the case now and what the case even was, instead of paying it to the occasional dip in the pavement and reality outside one’s head. So really they took physical and mental trips while on their after school trip, hilariously stacked like Russian nesting dolls; awkward for onlookers who didn’t know whether to classify it as cute or not.

Izaya broke the silence with a cleared throat in notice of his own doorstep.

    “I was wondering…” He swung into a dexterous dismount before Shizuo could halt. With a ‘hup’ he stuck the landing; a smile formed as he shook blood back into each foot.

    “Would you have carried me if I’d just asked?” he jabbed his nail into Shizuo’s forehead and twisted for good measure.

    Unaffected by the cut, Shizuo leaned into the weaponised nail. “Yeah.”

    Izaya gasped theatrically, “you’re definitely lying this time, Shizu-chan!”

    “If you think so, ask me tomorrow.”

The truth was weighed out with Izaya’s  stare, which only stopped when Shizuo surprisingly gave into the pressure; pulled away and unnecessarily rubbed at his forehead to check for blood. With anticipation, he found his pockets and fussed with lint, too bashful to ask if Izaya wanted to continue on as planned.

Nervous energy was absorbed by Izaya and turned him away to struggle with his locked door with his own jitters in control of his hands. A number of dissatisfied clicks and the right one clunked, he swung the door in haste and moved to the side.

    “Why not now?”

    “Uh…” Shizuo watched as Izaya openly displayed his body.

    “Now, as in, carry me _now_ , Shizu-chan.”

    “Oh.” He shrugged, “okay.”

Neither of them moved.

    “…well?”

    “What? You didn’t ask.”

    “Seriously…” Izaya took the moment to be unamused.

    “You’re not a coward, so prove it.”

    He looked offended, “fine! Carry me up to my bedroom so we can fuck already.”

Shizuo had already prepared to carry Izaya, but he hadn’t expected the proposal to be so crass — brief shock drew upon his face and his stature went rigid. Satisfied with the result, Izaya beckoned him further with a popped chin, which he displayed with far too much cock for Shizuo’s liking. Decidedly, he flung the other teen into a fireman’s carry instead of what he knew was wanted.

    “Brute! This isn’t how I meant!”

    “Eh, technically you didn’t ask, didn’t specify either.”

    “You knew what I meant. Don’t let Shinra one up you, carry me bridal style, like a man who is courting his beloved!!”

    “Maybe someday. If it’s accurate.” He snorted.

    Izaya kicked Shizuo in gut, especially hard, specifically with his _injured_ foot. “Don’t think I would ever ask a imbecile like you something like that.”

    “Why would _you_ be the one to ask?”

    “Because you make me ask unnecessary things!”

    “So you’re saying it’s a given that one of us eventually will? Ask, I mean.”

Izaya was caught off guard; his backside was intentionally used as a weak battering ram against the bedroom door, though it was the question that shook him and not how he was used.

    He huffed. “You’re pressing your luck of that ever happening. Which, by the way, was never in your favour.”

    “I just want sex. I never said I wanted…that.”

    “Good, because it was a one in a million chance. Not 100% impossible, but only because _nothing_ is certain and it’d be a disgrace to act as though we were prophets.”

Their hot potato game of mock adult topics escalated into something that disgusted both players with scowls.

    “Whatever, Izaya.” Shizuo swung the annoyed teen onto the mess of bed covers.

    “Whatever, Shizu-chan.” He flicked his leg up to demand removal of his pants — arms crossed, eyes dead set, his toe mockingly pointed.

Shizuo shrugged like he had no idea what to do with the limb, the same he dodged when Izaya aimed a kick below the belt; retaliated with a lowered gaze to rest on his attacker’s belt with a lackadaisical demand of his own.

Izaya steeled his annoyance—complied, but flubbed each attempt he made to loosen leather from its clasp.

    “You can be fun to tease, flea.”

    “Same, to be honest.”

    “Ha, you were right. You sound dumb saying it too.”

    “It’s called a throwback, Shizu-chan, a wittier version of you nearly throwing out my back.” He unzipped his fly and simultaneously tugged his pants down, waited for further assistance, slathered on thick his insinuation for Shizuo to cut the crap and join in — damned if he asked.

Still Shizuo denied with a fake yawn and a drawn up hand to shield; summoned tears at the corners of his eyes to accentuate his laissez faire.

Izaya cursed. He hoped hormones would overrule Shizuo before he was forced to strip and maneuver him through the motions like a doll. _Why_ _couldn’t they fuck like normal sex driven mammals and get it over with?_

    “Thought your bed was too high quality to injure you?”

    “Mattresses have their limits.”

    "Thought you didn’t weigh much.”

    “Strength knows no bounds!”

    “Hmm…”

    Izaya finally took Shizuo by the shoulders and yanked him down. “What inane idea are you pondering over now, Shizu-chan?”

    “Will strength get you to shut up?”

    “Depends, will you finally join me if I do?”

    “All you have to do is ask me to, pest.”

    "I can’t do that if I can’t talk, dolt. Besides, that ruins the fun, doesn’t it?” he nimbly undid buttons below a splayed wide collar. “It’s better that you figure it out for yourself.”

    “You’re seriously gonna go the hard route.”

Shizuo watched as his shirt tails got tossed aside; as his abdomen was ironed by clammy hands which slid up and around his shoulders to bunch blazer sleeves at his elbows.

    “Isn’t this the hard route for you as well? You could speed this up if you didn’t wait for me to ask for something we _both_ want.”

Without motion of his own, Shizuo let the other pull him out of his Raijjn blues, one arm and each leg at a time.

    “This is fun, though.”

    “I’m glad I can humour you, Shizuo.”

    “Me too.”

    “Seriously, where’s this patience coming from?” Izaya pulled a waistband taut, “you’re already hard!”

    “Yeah, this is a turn on.”

    Izaya let the elastic snap. “I’m appalled.”

    “Also turned on.”

True enough, he was. The call of attention riled Izaya enough to bespeckle his chest with a blush that traveled from his cheeks. His own knit fabric strained with a solo throb — or two.

    “Yes, and the longer I have to work, the quicker I’ll go flaccid. Wouldn’t that be a pity.”

    “Eh, I could still beat off to you.”

Indignant, Izaya decided to sacrifice his own pleasure to extend the tension so far it would bend Shizuo to his mercy. He hooked elastic and wiggled a tight undergarment to free Shizuo’s erection. He ran a finger along the underside, base to the tip, directed it to stand pert upon his pointer, used his tongue to take away a taste of pre-cum. As he glossed his lips, he assessed if Shizuo would give, but wound up having to pull away again after a mere shiver was enacted and nothing more from his supposed lover.

    “But why wait to handle it yourself?”

    “‘Cause you’re not asking.”

    “I shouldn’t have to ask these things! It’s sex for fuck’s sake! We aren’t timid boyfriends!”  
  
    “Yup.”

    Izaya escalated, “then why, pray tell, are you waiting for my consent when it’s handed to you on a silver platter?”

    “‘Cause you’re hilariously bashful when asking for what you want, instead of being confident like you think you are.”

    “Ohohoho, Shizu-chan,” his frustration turned sadistic, “I’ll make you eat those words.”

 

* * *

 

    It was needlessly arduous — the extended game of chicken that the two hormonal teens played, rather a test of sexual resolve and the extent to which their partner would go to fulfill a not yet developed kink; a deathless battle royale. They held out to the end, no questions asked, only desires begged  — stubbornly masturbated almost exclusively to their own pride.

With huffs and sneers, their wills were exhausted. Despite the tail end of adrenaline, they were peacefully calm, reasonably satisfied with the results, just frustrated with the lengths that it took to get them. Izaya was frustrated with Shizuo, as was he in return, but they didn’t question if they were satisfied with the benefits of being casual fuck enemies. So they rallied their heated retorts past the main event and into the glow of their post-game cleanup, because —of course— that was who they were.

    “Who’s the winner in this scenario?”  
  
    “You seriously askin’ that?”  
  
    “I don’t needlessly chatter, simpleton.”

    “There doesn’t hafta be a winner.”

Izaya pre-cleaned himself before his shower. He shook off a stringy tail of cum from his hand while he shared his disgust with how it clung; took note of where to concentrate his soapy cleanse, like a film would remain without an extra scrub.

Shizuo watched, though almost buttoned the hole above the proper on his shirt, distracted by the naked view that jumbled his coordination and threatened to turn him on again.

    “Double think that thought — with us, I’m pretty sure there has to be.” He felt self conscious under the study of his skin and grabbed his slacks to hop into.

    “Fine, you won.”

    “Oh? Now you’re admitting defeat so easily.”

    “Look, I’m not gonna feed your ego with compliments for being an avoidant brat, so just take it.”

    Light reflected off Izaya’s widened eyes, “well that’s the funny thing…” his smile curled.

    Shizuo spoke a _‘here it comes’_ in his mind, paired the dramatic pause with his own, “…yeah?” he wrinkled his brow as he was egged him on.  
  
    “Tell me what the hell is so funny, Izaya?”

To which his question snapped the trap which the manipulator hoped his prey would fall for.

    “I didn’t expect you to compliment me,” he winked, “because I never asked you to. Thank you for the _real_ victory, Shizu-chan.” Izaya sung.

With an air of shook hands for a good duel, Shizuo graced Izaya with smiled _touché_.

    It was dumb, yet endearing; fitting, but all the same dumb. After all the fuss, their stubbornness began to carry their baggage while they two trudged onward through a messy relationship. To _what_ degree, though, would forever be a battle of who would ask first.

**Author's Note:**

> This one kinda ran long, but eh. It fulfilled my hankering for a Raijin fic, simultaneously one where Shizuo carries Izaya. Sometimes I hate loving tropes. uwu;
> 
> ♡ As always, I love kudos, comments; praise and feedback. They're my lifeblood. ♡


End file.
